


Michael in the Bathroom

by rosemallows



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Sad, you can view it as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-13 02:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13561032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemallows/pseuds/rosemallows
Summary: Michael remembers how Jeremy had helped him through his moments.This is a totally new experience.





	Michael in the Bathroom

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to the Be More Chill Soundtrack.
> 
> Listened to Michael in the Bathroom.
> 
> I don't know 100% of the plot line so it may be kinda inaccurate?
> 
> Also this is kind of shit because I just wrote this for fun and in one sitting lmao.

“Get out of my way, _loser_.”

Michael stared up at Jeremy with the most painful expression on his face. He searched his best friend’s eyes, wondering if he could find any kind of emotion in it at all. But Jeremy’s face was hard, solid. Like a shield hiding itself from what he truly felt.  
Michael stepped back, slowly, lowering his head. He stared down at the linoleum tiles and listened to the roar of the music and whooping in the background. But the sound larger than that was the slam of a door as his friend. His Player 2, shut the door in his face, leaving him to nothing but himself.

Michael gripped his sweater hard, biting down on his lip. He was fucking terrified to move. Because if he made any sudden moves, he feared he’d break. His arms convulsed rapidly as he squeezed the wool tightly. He gritted his teeth so hard that if anyone saw they would wonder why they hadn’t shattered by now. He kept his focus right on the floor because if he moved his eyes any further from the tiles, they would swell up and expel rivers of tears. He tried not to think about Jeremy. He tried not to think about, “You are my favorite person!” and “We’re never not gonna be a team.” _Empty promises, yeah._

In his concentration of the tiles, he tried to breathe until—

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

“Hello!? Some of us have to pee!” an irritated voice called out. Michael, snapped out of his trance, yelped and fell onto his butt. His body shook horrendously.  
“Uh, I’m having my period!” he yelled back, picking an excuse out of the air.

His heart beat fast, nervous for a response.

“. . . Take your time, honey.”

The boy pressed his hands to his face, breathing a bit hard through his fingers. He stumbled over to the toilet, sitting on top of the cover and hugging his knees to himself.

“Greatest party of the fall . . . here I am, in this lame bathroom,” the boy mumbled. He grit his teeth, fumbling with his fingers. He could feel some tingling rising in his fingers. He could feel his pulse beating slightly faster.

_Loser._

The high school student sucked in a breath and held it, afraid to breathe out. Michael shakily reached an arm to his pocket, revealing a phone. He held it, trying to still his terribly shivering limb. He clicked on his photos, scrolling through them and pressing on a picture of him and his best friend.

His other half.

His _friend._

No other half there anymore.

They had the biggest grins on their face. Each of them waved a milkshake in one hand as Michael’s other arm reached out his phone to snap a picture of the both of them. Jeremy’s curls fell on top of his forehead. He had the vanilla shake in both hands. Michael could remember this day. He could never forget.

With a heavy heart, dripping with dread, he pressed the three dots in the upper right corner of the screen, and deleted the memory.

Within the few seconds, something snapped that caused the weak bands restraining the fearful monster in his chest to break, because suddenly, he felt it growing and growing with every second.

And he cried out. He cried with the wrenching of his heart and the tearing of his heartstrings.

 

* * *

 

When the two boys shoved Michael to the ground, he remembered crawling backwards, and his lips trembling in fear. The boys were in seventh grade, as he was, and taunting him and pointing a finger to his chest for . . . well, being him.  
“Retard,” laughed one of the boys. He jabbed a crooked fingernail at his throat.

Michael’s face was full of pain and terror as he shook terribly. He clutched his red hoodie in his hands, pinching the wool between his fingers. He clenched his fist around it and unclenched it, a sign of discomfort and nervousness. He wanted this to end.

“P—Please,” he sputtered out, unable to say anything else other than those useless syllables. He remembered being outside on the field at the school. A crowd had surrounded them. A crowd full of people he doesn’t know. He felt his vision start to get blurry. From tears? From how fucked his brain felt? He couldn’t tell. But the sounds of the boys’ words and the jeers of the crowd were turning into ringing. He could feel his chest tightening up. He felt like a character in a lost temple in a jungle. Just like one of those guys who accidentally stepped on the wrong “symbol” and the walls were closing in on him.

He felt like that. But the walls were rumbling horribly. The ground was cracking. The walls were already right on his chest, constricting his throat, unable to breathe. He tried so hard. But little puffs of breath just pushed out.

“Aw look! He’s freakin’ out!”

A crowd of people he doesn’t know.

He felt a kick at his chest, leaving him to tumble over the dirt.  
He curled up at himself, pressing his hot, sweaty hands to his chest. Pain. Pain. Pain.

“Ugh, he’s not even doing anything!”

“What a freak.”

“What a loser!”

He remembered feeling a couple more hard punches.

But he remembered suddenly gasping for breath. He remembered clawing at his throat, burning up, burning up. He couldn’t see or breathe.  
Then he remembered Jeremy.

“Michael! Michael!” he called. Concern in his voice. Jeremy plopped down in front of him, comforting arms around his friend, trying his hardest not to scream out at him. He tried to speak in the most soothing voice he could. He rubbed calming circles on the back of the thirteen year old’s hoodie. Jeremy counted to three, wondering if he could regulate his breathing well.

Michael was listening. The ringing in his ears were fainter but the cursed walls still threatened to crush him and his windpipe.

“Michael, hey, hey hey, come on, bud,” he murmured softly into his ear. Jeremy rubbed more circles on his back, shushing him softly. He rocked his classmate’s panicking body back and forth, bringing a hand up to his scalp and messing up his already messed up hair.

When that didn’t seem to change many things, Jeremy started to hum. He hummed a tune so soft and so warm as he rocked him in his arms. Michael breathed in and out, slower and slower. He felt the walls start to fade off and he began to take his hands away from his ears.  
He pressed his forehead in his best friend’s shoulder, listening to that wonderful tune.

The tune stuck in his ears and head. It was a constant hum, repeating the same pattern over and over. But it helped him breathe better. The hum rang loudest in Michael’s ears. And he soon slowly smiled and started to hum it too.

Jeremy and Michael, humming a repetitive tune to themselves. Jeremy felt Michael relax and weakly, and brokenly hum the tune to his song. His voice sounded terribly hoarse, but his bud was back. He was fine. He was okay.

 

* * *

 

_KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK._

He could feel the walls closing in on him. He rocked back and forth in the tub, trying to chill himself. He tried to imagine the times Jeremy had calmed him without him actually being there with him. He tried to imagine what he had done before. He could hear the screaming of the people on the other side.

_CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG._

The feeling in his chest was exploding. It was getting worse and worse. He couldn’t breathe.

 

He hummed to himself. He hummed words to the same hum that Jeremy sang to him once to calm him down. He hummed again. He felt those words vibrate in his mouth, tried to imagine Jeremy with his hand rubbing circles on his back again. That tune. That melody. It had always worked on him. He always felt himself start to breathe better. He would always feel like him again.

It was hard to concentrate.

Because it was Jeremy who left him alone. He was the one who has been there for him.

But he’s no longer here.

“Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hm hm,” he mumbled weakly. “Michael in the bathroom . . . ” Michael gently rocked himself on the floor. He clutched his ‘creeps’ sweater tighter.

“This . . .” he whimpered, “is a heinous night.” The seventeen year old slowly stood, wobbly and lightheaded. He trudged toward the sink, staring in the mirror. He stared at his tear stricken skin. His red, red eyes. Totally not from crying. That was from earlier. Or . . . maybe an eyelash stuck in his cornea.

But he breathed harder. And the monster in his chest began to push and scream again. He felt his chest tighten up as it shoved its way against him. Michael wheezed, crying, full of anger and desperation. The sound of the party music was faint in the background. The chatter of hormone ridden teens was the loudest thing. He could hear them cackling and gossiping. With all their friends and lovers. With Jeremy.

“I could have . . .” he choked aloud. “I should have . . . when I got the chance . . . I,” he stammered, then ripped a sob from his already flamed throat.  
Michael yelled, wheezed, then threw his hands up to his throat. He squeezed his eyes, tears flowing horribly.

_You’re just a loner._

_You’re just a loser._

_You’re just a stoner._

“God, he’s such a loser!” he screamed, curling back into himself as he released the words into the air. The words he once took so lovingly as a compliment.  
_Never a better time in history to be a loser! Own it!_ The words that meant so much to him. The ones that he held as a glowing sign with pride, suddenly dim and broken in this time. Loser. The word that he accepted, destroying him as Jeremy so hurtfully used it against him.

He was a loser. He burst out into more sobs, feeling helpless and weakness. The humming no longer working.

The boy exhaled through his mouth. His throat was dry and burning. He fell onto his bottom, crawling toward the corner of the room.

And when the rise and fall of his chest wasn’t so frequent anymore, he let his head loll against the wall. He rested his eyes, swiping away some lingering tears on his lashes.

“Awesome party, guys. So glad I came,” he mumbled, breathing out a dry chuckle.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the tune that Jeremy would hum to Michael was to the tune of “Michael in the bathroom” in case you were wondering. Which is why Michael hums near the end of the song. >:)
> 
>  
> 
> Once again, this was just a little drabble I did. So sorry it's not good. I was planning on making a better version of this once I got to know the musical a little better. :}


End file.
